The Challenge Box
by Molten-Ashes
Summary: P&J Community 2011 Anniversary Challenge
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own transformers!

Please R&R

Week 1, Challenge Prompt: Facebook

Title: When in Doubt... Use Facebook  
>Verse: G1<br>Rating: PG  
>Warnings: Prowl ranting, Jazz not being up to date on trends.<br>Characters/Pairings: Prowl, Jazz, mentions of others.

(Enjoy!)

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><p>"I told you Prowl, I'm not lost!" Jazz protested, preventing his bondmate from overtaking him once more on the dusty tarmac road. "Okay, so my satellite tracker and our communication links might be scrambled but I have a very good sense of direction!"<p>

"Jazz, you nearly managed to drive us off a cliff!" Prowl snapped his siren giving a loud whoop of disapproval, his lights flashing a frustrated ruby and neon blue as they casually travelled down the unknown road in the middle of a baking desert somewhere between states in America. "Now let me get in front!"

"No!" the black and white Porsche whined cutting Prowl off once more, his frustrated Bondmate opening his doors and slamming them closed in a sign of anger that was echoed through the bond. "I want to do it!"

"This is the last time I go on vacation with you," Prowl sniffed moodily to himself "I should have learned my lesson from the last time you suggested a vacation, but no, I had to let you use Bluestreak on me and now here I am lost in the fragging desert with a semi-quick witted saboteur."

"Ouch" Jazz winced, shifting lower on his tyres as Prowl continued to rant to himself his lights and sirens still giving random burst of sound and colour. "Now I know where our Blue gets his temper from. You haven't had a swearing fit like this since we were on Cybertron."

"I couldn't get lost on Cybertron." Prowl snapped, his engine snarling and revving, if the Datsun had been in root mode his glare could have probably melted plating. "We had every route ingrained into us as Enforcers since we enrolled in the Academy, why do you think Praxus had the lowest crime-rate?"

"Ancient history Prowler dearest," Jazz sing-songed, earning himself a shove to the bumper as they cruised at the leisurely pace of seventy miles an hour. "Anyway, we're on one of the nicest planets in the solar system! Someone is bound to show up sooner or later to give us directions!"

"This is the _only_ planet in the solar system that can sustain life" the Praxian huffed as they kicked up a pile of dust swirling in the dry breeze over the heated tarmac road. "Of course it's going to be the friendliest."

"Picky, picky," Jazz muttered as Prowl suddenly went silent both slipping into the shade of an abandoned fuel station, parked side by side in the shade. "Okay mister I know everything. How do we get out of this?"

"Internet" Prowl said casually extending a transmitter from where his radio aerial would have been if he had been a normal Datsun.

"Wha?" Jazz asked in confusion, as Prowl popped open a small panel above his wheel arch in a subtle gesture to link up with him.

"For someone who claims to be hip and up to date with the trends, you are terribly far behind." Prowl said, his voice tinged with amusement as Jazz dutifully linked up with him as the tactician logged onto something called 'Facebook'.

"I'm putting my status as 'Lost. Need directions back to the ARK. Possibly send Skyfire. See photo attached." Prowl explained as Jazz snickered in amusement as a few of the Autobots Prowl was 'friends' with immediately responded.

Sideswipe instantaneously put back 'Haha! No luck Cop-bot!'.

Ratchet replied with a smiley face with a tongue hanging out.

Wheeljack commented that he liked the photo and 'Could Prowl pick up some of the desert dirt for him to study?'

Optimus put back a grinning smiley and stated Skyfire was on his way.

Prowl snorted at his acquired comments as Jazz giggled beside him bouncing on his suspension, careful not to disconnect from his mate, prompting the SIC to reply to his comments.

'Sideswipe. Brig. Now!'

'Ratchet, you are an aft.'

'No Wheeljack, I'm more concerned about not baking to deactivation than collecting you a sample of desert dust from wherever I am, when there is perfectly good desert dust outside the ARK for you to play with.'

'Optimus… frag you.'

The Porsche parked beside him laughed aloud as they heard the loud rumbling thunder of Skyfire's engines overhead not ten minutes later "Ah, mech! I gotta get me one of those!"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers!

Please R&R

Week: 2  
>Prompt: Turning the Tables<p>

Title: Turning the Table  
>Verse: Bayverse<br>Rating: PG  
>Warnings: none<br>Characters/Pairings: Prowl, Jazz, Suntreaker, Sideswipe

(enjoy)

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><p>This was the twentieth time this month Prowl had been pranked.<p>

Optimus was currently hiding in his office hoping his tactician would only destroy a small portion of the base in revenge, mentally taking note to warn the human President not to come for another week or so, less he get indivertibly squashed by scheming SIC while he was here.

Ironhide had long ago made an excuse to go stay with the Lennox's, and was currently pretending he wasn't coward as Sarah Lennox gave him a polish with a giggling Annabelle waving the garden hose around as she tried to hit her dad with the powerful spray.

Ratchet had stalked into Wheeljack's lab to rant about the possible outcomes and work he would have to do after the whole fiasco was over; all the while convincing himself that Prowl wouldn't come hunting in the Inventor's lab, leaving a terrified Jolt to man the Medbay.

Bumblebee had taken Sam and Mikaela away from the base as he felt the scarily familiar foreboding sense of devious tactical planning fill the air upon the Autobot base of Diego Garcia.

"So when are we going to do this?" the recently repaired silver Saboteur smirked leaning back in Prowl's plain visitor chair that decorated the SIC's office.

"Pardon?" the golden opticked mech asked, his suspicious gaze flickering to his bondmate as he finished signing a data-pad, slotting it methodically into 'the Leaning Tower of Pads' as Jazz had so childishly named it.

"You know… Twins, Pranks, Revenge, Inclusion of Bondmate" Jazz listed on his four fingers with a grin as the tactician sighed.

"Jazz, just because they changed your music collection to nursery rhymes and sparkling stories doesn't warrant what I'm going to do to them." Prowl tried to reason as the TIC puffed up his armour in insult.

"Mech, they messed with the music," Jazz declared banging a fist on his chest armour, a deep gong echoing through the plainly decorated office. "That's a declaration of war!"

"Primus, spare me." Prowl grumbled as he picked up the last data-pad of the day "Very well, Jazz, you can be in charge of catching the fraggers and delivering them to me."

"Now we're talking!" the silver mech grinned leaning forward and bouncing in his seat. "What's the plan?"

_**===Several Hours and One Lengthy Explanation Later===**_

It had started with Sideswipe's beloved Spoon Collection going missing, complete with his favourite spoon gilded in gold. The silver swordsmech had been inconsolable for the past half hour, doing a very good impression a hysterical human femme that had lost their hair brush before a big dance and thus, thoroughly ruining his tough mech image to most of the snickering soldiers of the Rec-Room, most of who were totally stumped as to why Sideswipe collected human and alien spoons in the first place.

Sunstreaker had been particularly jumpy this orn too. His own rather nice set of human paints going missing around the same time of Sideswipe's ridiculously large collection of spoons.

"I bet it was Jazz." he huffed to himself as he awkwardly patted his theatrically sobbing sibling on the back strut while he sipped his afternoon energon, seriously regretting annoying Prowl now that he had the sudden urge to start drawing and painting. "Slagger is probably going to blackmail us."

"Sideswipe! Sunstreaker!" a familiar monotone voice tinged with anger snapped through the base's Communication network. "Brig! Now!"

"What did you do?" Sunstreaker glowered at the bewildered looking Sideswipe, who looked up and about him in fright when Prowl's 'I am in the mood to murder someone' tone buzzed in his audio.

"I didn't do anything! I swear!" the silver mech whined following his golden brother as they both skated from the Rec-Room, trekking the familiar way towards the elaborate brig that Prowl had designed when he turned up, not four months before. "Do you think he'll know where my spoons are?"

"I couldn't give a damn about your…!" Sunstreaker began only to feel something sting his neck cabling, his legs suddenly feeling wobbly, his processor's thoughts becoming dulled and slow as whatever he was attacked with took its toll through his lines.

"Sunny!" was the startled cry he heard before he toppled to the silver floor of the Diego Garcia Autobot Base.

_**==Prowl's Office= Two Days Later== **_

"Mech, I love you." Jazz cooed as he was passed the folder with the incriminating image captures by a rightfully smug SIC. "I gotta say, Sideswipe with his spoons magnetised to himself and tied up in the lightning storm was a brilliant one."

"Yes," the Head Tactical Officer nodded sagely, his ruby chevron glinting devilishly in the light of the office as Jazz snickered at the photos Red Alert's camera drones had taken for them. "Last I saw of our… delightful silver swordsmech, he was still running on that treadmill Wheeljack built so he could get rid of the excess charge, which, may I also add, is powering this half of the base. Eco friendly and it keeps the pest occupied."

"What about our resident Sunshine?" Jazz asked having just dropped off the bodies to a pleased looking Prowl in the brig once he had brought both front line warriors down.

"His colour nanites were infected with a little virus I created and his transformation controls were shut down." Prowl said casually withdrawing another large brown folder from his subspace and pushing it lightly across the desk towards his gleeful mate who promptly snatched the package from the table and ripped open the seal. "He's currently being driven by a certain Robert Epps to a Lamborghini show on the mainland sporting a beautiful neon Rainbow colour scheme."

"Prowler my love," Jazz said with a purr as he put down the folders holding the evidence of Prowl's revenge, his visor black crystal visor lifting up to reveal his deep cobalt optics to his pleased mate that flared his doorwings proudly "You sure know how to turn the table on the 'Master Pranksters'."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers!

Please R&R

Week:3

Prompt: You put 'Fun' in 'Dysfunctional'

Title: 'When Cybertronians Rattle' or 'How the Autobots got rid of Galloway'  
>Verse: Bayverse<br>Rating: T (mentions of 'Desire to Squish')  
>Warnings: None<br>Characters/Pairings: Prowl, Galloway, Jazz, Ironhide, Optimus, mentions of others.

(Tilt your head, squint and it might just fill the prompt!)

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><p>When a Cybertronian puffs up their armour like an enraged cobra, it was usually a signal for the opponent or anybody in the surrounding area to start running, flying, swimming or just generally get the frag out of the vicinity.<p>

When a Cybertronian rattled his armour however, it was a sure sign you were going to meet Primus or whatever God you believed in, in the next breem or so, depending on how long the Cybertronian in question wanted to draw out your deactivation.

It was also taken into consideration that only a select few of the Cybertronains occupying the base on the island of Diego Garcia ever did flare or rattle their plating; Ratchet didn't really count as he done it all the time. So in true wait-until-something-happens-before –we-explain-it fashion the resident Autobots didn't bother to convey the meanings of such practices to the humans bustling around their pedes.

It had been a normal day in the Autobot base, Autobots got up late and rushed to their shifts, Sideswipe was tossed into the brig by a grumbling and very yellow Ironhide, Prowl was stalked by Jazz and Ratchet was helping Wheeljack to reattach his servo after it had blown off for the seventh time that week, when the figurative Armageddon struck.

Galloway, the annoying human that he was, had entered the base with his usual scowl in place, reading over some official pieces of paper that even Prowl had taken to taking pot shots at his office bin with the articles belonging to the human that ended up on his desk.

Prowl, the infamous SIC that had recently fallen to earth locked in battle with Soundwave, was feeling frustrated over his extensive paper work that even Optimus had once admitted that he had no idea where it came from and was walking down the corridor with his doorwings set in the 'go away and annoy me later if you really have to' position, optics a burning amber as he gripped tightly onto his data-pad.

Both were set to collide precisely at the entrance to the full Rec-Room where Jazz was currently lounging on the giant sofa, waiting for the SIC to join him for afternoon energon.

Galloway jumped when the pede of the mech came down in front of him, Sergeant Epps and Major William Lennox cursing their luck that Prowl's pede had not actually landed on the annoying man, relations be damned.

The Praxian gave a short huff of his vents as he felt the human collide with his pede, internally dismayed he had nearly stepped on one, though his inner turmoil calmed when he saw it was the annoying liaison currently glaring up at him.

"Mr. Galloway." Prowl said, his voice flat and cold to the humans around them, though Jazz snickered at the obvious distasteful inflection in the specific way that the Tactical Officer had spoken, the saboteur being careful to keep his attention on the TV, less he attract the less than impressive ire of the human government official.

"Watch where you are going!" the flustered human snarled up at him as he sidestepped the pede wearily as if was going to bite him, jumping when an internal structure of the pede rotated and clicked when Prowl shifted his weight. "Useless robots."

Prowl's armour flared in insult, already frayed patience and courtesy snapping, gold optics narrowing and slightly fanged denta, a sign of his duel parentage, bared slightly as the human went on his way, oblivious to the furious alien behind him currently weighing up the options to either step on the troublesome organic or just go on his way and meet his lover for energon. Decision made, parts of Prowl's shoulder armour began to shudder, soon followed by the rest of his plating, the rattling gong making every Autobot in the vicinity cringe and react.

Jazz's helm whipped up from where he was concentrating on the TV, optics wide and alarmed behind his visor, Ironhide who had been polishing his cannons in the corner, stood, optics wearily watching the SIC as the Praxian's wings flared up and out in a sharp 'v', systems quieting to a soft purr as the Cybertronian war armour plating continued its ominous rattle.

"Jazz, get Optimus." The still bright yellow mech said lowly crouching to tackle the infuriated SIC before he hunted down the oblivious Galloway and stepped on him in the manner one would compare to a Decepticon.

The Tactician lunged forward a few nanoclicks after the Weapons specialist, both colliding in a loud crash of metal, Jazz sprinting from the room, hailing Optimus like a mad mech as he scooped up the human liaison that Prowl was intent on hunting down, the human letting out an enraged yell as he was gripped firmly by the silver TIC.

"Optimus to Jazz." A deep rumble came through his Communication link, the saboteur accepting the call with a quick tap to his audio horn.

"Optimus! Big Problem!" Jazz said nearly running into the Autobot Leader's Office door in his haste to hide from the furious roar that Prowl let out as he got away from Ironhide. "Prowl's Rattling!"

The Autobbot Leader, surprised that his Head of Special Operations had practically tumbled through his door with the frightened Galloway dangling from his grasp, gave a deep sigh of resignation from where he was currently sitting innocently behind his desk.

"This is the most dysfunctional establishment I have ever seen!" Galloway spluttered as Jazz dumped the organic on the Prime's desk. "First those blasted Corvette Twins are pranking left, right and centre, then the Security Director has a melt down when I told him he had a few screws loose upstairs and now one of your men is trying to kill me by suddenly grabbing me at speed!"

"Man, I just saved your pint sized aft from getting smeared over the floor." Jazz protested before giving a casual shrug "Plus, with Prowl and all the other quirky habits this particular crew have, we all put the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'."

"For immature children maybe!" Galloway snapped at the smallest mech in the room, the giant Prime softly chuckling at Jazz's observation of the crew. "Anyway, how long will it be until I can get out of here?"

"Never really," Optimus shrugged, subtly leaping for the chance that this unexpected visit gave him to be rid of the infuriating organic once and for all, "Once a Cybertronian Rattles his plating, you're on his hit list for life."

Galloway quit the next morning.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't Own Transformers!

Please R&R!

Title: Movie Night  
>Week: 3<br>Verse: Bayverse  
>Rating: PG<br>Warnings: None (Does Wheeljack count?)  
>CharactersPairings: Jazz, Prowl, Lennox, Epps, mentions of others

Prompt: Movie Night

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><p><em><strong>===The Autobot Base= Diego Garcia===<strong>_

It was well known that the human soldiers of the NEST base on Diego Garcia loathed, hated and absolutely despised Movie Night, the time when the current alien robots that occupied the island attempted to understand the human film industry.

William Lennox groaned as the date on the calendar, circled in bright ruby ink several times on each month, complete with the name of the Transformer who was going to pick the movie, was brought to his attention by a shaky looking Robert Epps, his friend blearily reaching for the temperamental Cybertronian Coffee Maker, somebody had named Bean, the oddly affectionate hyper active heaven maker giggling as it poured the human his drug of choice that morning.

"Tonight, we watch movies in hell…" Epps groaned (which sounded unusually like a Scottish man doing a Spartan accent) grabbing his mug to go and wander over to the carefully arranged tables to slouch in his usual chair.

_**=== 7:00 pm===**_

Prowl scowled as Jazz grinned innocently at him, the lithe smaller mech perched on his desk like a showgirl, swinging his pedes like a bored child. "Come on Prowler, there has to be a movie on this planet that won't crash your processors."

"Jazz, the last movie this base watched on movie night, Zoolander, I do believe it was called, crashed and fried my logic chips so hard, I was talking 'geek', as you put it, for a week." The SIC replied wearily.

"But Optimus said it was mandatory to come. It'll help us understand the human culture." Jazz grinned knowing his bondmate could never say 'no' to any rule put in place by the Prime. Except for that one time back on Cybertron when Prowl nearly ripped Optimus' audio antenna's off for putting a rule on the roster that the tactician was only allowed to work eight orns out of the decaorn.

Let's just say it was lucky Ironhide was in the vicinity…

"A pox on Prime and his ridiculous rules." The Praxian mech sulked fiddling with his stylus over a half finished data-pad "Anyway who is choosing the dreaded movie this time?"

"Bluestreak." Jazz smirked making Prowl groan, the red chevroned mech looking like he wanted to bang his faceplate on the desk.

"It's a Disney one isn't it?"

"Surprisingly, no." the silver plated saboteur chirred smugly, "It's called Pride and Prejudice."

"That was going to be my second guess." Prowl said dryly shaking his helm with a laborious sigh of his vents.

"Mech, it was either that or Titanic." Jazz retorted crossing his arm with a frown "And after the sob-fest we went through with Flicka and The Notebook, Ratchet threatened bodily harm if we emptied out our optic cleanser canisters again."

"And this, Pride and Prejudice… It won't make me crash?" Prowl asked wearily setting down his stylus as he checked the time on his chronometer, it was nearly time for the movie…

"Fifty-fifty lover," the saboteur shrugged with tilt of his horned helm, "Major fifty-fifty."

_**===Movie=== **_

Prowl was currently squashed in between a snoring Jazz and a dim opticked Optimus. The Prime was beginning to start to lean precariously towards his shoulder every five breems or so before he would jump and shuffle back up into a proper viewing position.

"Sorry I'm late!" came the hassled voice of the resident mad scientist as the Rec-Room door hissed open, the mech still carrying a small device in one hand as he hurriedly crossed the packed room, the bots grumbling or snapping from where they were sitting or laying on the floor around the giant TV currently playing Bluestreak's choice of film.

Prowl raised a pointed claw, poking his snoring bondmate in the cheekplate, the saboteur jerking awake with an unmechly shriek, startling the still apologising Wheeljack as he tried to step over Sunstreaker on his way towards the table where Ratchet and Ironhide had saved him a seat. The Prime's chief engineer tripped earning a roar of rage from the scratched front liner, landing on a startled Smokescreen's back who was playing a sneaky game of cards with the laughing Sideswipe under the light of the TV screen earning a 'shush' and a glare from the captivated Bluestreak.

The shiny Cybertronian device that Wheeljack had taken with him came free from his servos, the sets of blue and golden optics of all the resident Autobots watching the sphere shaped object as it sailed by the TV's light to land on the Prime's lap.

"That's not good." William Lennox gasped from the human balcony as the sphere started to beep, both ends popping open as all the bots scrambled to evacuate the area, leaving a shocked Prime, Prowl and Jazz staring at the peculiar beeping machinery that suddenly exploded in light.

"Aww, frag." Wheeljack winced his helm fins flickering a distraught pale orange as the light faded; the Prime and his Officers nowhere in sight.

_**===Somewhere===**_

"Why Mister Darcy, what are those peculiar metal giants on the lawn?"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own transformers!

Please R&R

Title: Friendly Hauntings  
>Week: 4<br>Prompt: Dark of Night  
>Verse: Bayverse<br>Rating: PG  
>Warnings: Established Character Death, Crackiness<br>Characters/Pairings: Sam, Hound, Mirage, Jazz and Prowl.

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><p>Sam was really regretting getting up at midnight for a drink.<p>

It had been a simple enough need, get out of the bed set up in Bumblebee's quarters on the Diego Garcia Base, trot down the dark, giant, spooky hall in the dark and swipe a drink from the human sized kitchenette in the Transformer's Rec-Room.

However, he really hadn't expected to get caught in-between two unknown Transformers currently having a shouting match that apparently only he could hear, and they were being incredibly loud too. He was currently blaming the Allspark he had accidently absorbed.

"I'm telling you Hound!" the blue and white bot was snapping angrily, "It's bad enough we died in a shuttle crash and got zapped here by Primus but can you at least stop trying to lure ghost animals into the fragging base? I've had it with the ghost squirrels crawling all over my soul!"

""That's not fair to say that 'Raj." The boxier green mech pouted, his brilliant blue spark and optics shining bright in the dark of the corridor Sam was currently standing in, gawking like a guppy. "The squirrels are fun! It's the earth Tuna you have to watch out for. They just swim right through you."

And to Sam's horror, a pair of translucent legs without their top half jogged around the corner clearly running from the black and white mech that was chasing them, both ghost mech, and the legs, running between the two arguing mechs.

"Damn it Jazz!" the golden opticked mech was snarling, his graceful doorwings flared out into a sharp 'v' as the legs dodged his swiping grab and ran down the corridor. "Control your legs! And for Primus' sake, try to keep yourself in one piece!"

"Sorry Prowl!" a cheerful familiar voice cackled in the distance as the ghosts arguing over the ghost animals in the base shook their helms in exasperation. "It takes concentration!"

Sam chose at this moment to scream, the bulky green mech and lithe blue and white mech staring down at him in bewilderment as Jazz came around the corner towards them, his legs slotting back into alignment as the doorwinged mech herded them towards the giggling silver mech.

"What's that awful femme like noise?" the black and white mech sniffed, glaring down at the mortified Sam, his chevron a translucent ruby, the mech clearly also a ghost.

"I believe the human is conveying terror and imminent involuntary release of body fluids from the lower half of its organic frame." The bot called Mirage said disdainfully as Jazz shoved his way to the front of the three mechs gathered around the young man, whose scream had tapered off to an indignant squeak.

"Hey, Sam!" the silver, and dead, saboteur grinned down with a wave at the human, "What's crackin'?"

"I'm still dreaming aren't I?" the human asked almost pleadingly up at the four bemused ghosts of warrior Autobots, the young man desperately wondering if the soldiers and Autobots of the Diego Garcia base were deaf in their sleep. He had been screaming pretty loudly after all.

"I do believe you are awake human," Prowl said tilting his helm in curiosity at the question, "Your brain activity is too active for being in recharge."

"I'm officially scared of him." Sam commented to the grinning Jazz as the ghosts of Mirage and Hound wandered off, having picked up their argument on letting ghost animals into the base again.

"Prowler is my bondmate." The dead TIC chirred proudly patting the grumbling once SIC of the Autobots on the shoulder strut "He died when I did."

"Yes, death by Bondmate was exactly how I wanted to go." The tactical officer said sarcastically rolling his optics, before they gleamed with something akin to an idea, the golden gaze pinning Sam to the spot, "Human. Do you think you could tell Optimus not to sign outside of the boxes on his data-pads? He's getting sloppy again and I trained him to sign things better than that."

With that request uttered from the dead SIC of the Autobots, the human vessel of the Allspark's power turned on his heel and with an almost pained groan. "I'm never getting up at night to get a drink of water again…"


End file.
